"38," acrylic on canvas, 36" x 36" x 2," $3500 CAD

Recently I watched the documentary "Gerhard Richter Painting."  Through out the show, Richter paints by dragging paint across his large canvases with scrapping tools (image below: Richter and one of his abstracts).  There were times I found myself cringing and appealing for him to stop:  his paintings looked beautiful--complete.  Richter, however, would drag another ten layers of paint over the surface--and sometimes without satisfaction.  The interviewer asked him when does he know when to stop.  He says he knows.  

 

When I teach, I often tell my students not to treat their paintings as precious objects; when they do, they are paralyzed by fear of ruining them.  This fear stops them from exploring further.  Sometimes it is through destruction and reconstruction that one finds more rewarding results.  

I always practise this philosophy, so I was surprised to find myself frustrated with Richter's constant alterations.  I guess his threshold for "destruction" is uniquely tuned to his goals, personal experience, and process.  Hence, only he will know when to stop.  

I was highly aware of this issue when I was working on my latest painting, "38" (above).  The painting seem finished at times because it looked familiar and "pretty;" but why would I want to settle for these qualities?  Hence, after many hours of "destruction" to erase "pretty" and to make the painting process interesting for myself, "38" arrived at its final stage.  I hope you enjoy it.

 

Last summer when I was in Aix-En-Provence, I saw the "Masterpieces of the Museum Frieder Burda, Baden-Baden" at the Musee Granet.  Frieder Burda, a German businessman, collected art since the 60s.  For the first time in 2012, Burda's collection was shown outside of Germany.  It offered an overview of recent art, from Expressionism in the early 20th century to contemporary German Art.  The show was fantastic.  Unfortunately, for the sake of brevity, I will only name a handful of artists who really grabbed my attention.  In addition, this will be offered in two parts, with the second to be published in July.

 

I was pleased to view the many prolific manifestations of Gerhard Richter, whom I have mentioned above.  Richter is proud that his works are devoid of a particular style.  This is uncommon for the art world, where artists are encouraged to develop a unique style and maintain it.  Richter painted in all kinds of genres with success.  I saw many of his famous large abstracts, but what really intrigued me was his "Schlos Neuschwanstein," (above:  1963, oil and lacquer on canvas, 190 x 150 cm).  The clever minimalism he used to depict the castle is breathtaking.

 

I also enjoyed Neo Rauch's "Interview" (left:  2006, oil on canvas, 210 x 300 cm) for its surrealistic story-telling and raw execution.  I wonder how much of its impact, like Richter's paintings, is indebted to its sheer size.  When viewing a Rauch, I feel as though I have walked into an awkward drama.  Not only are the images puzzling, the compositions, too, can be unsettling with their lack of "conventional" balance.  It is this viewing discomfort that I find interestingly attractive.

 

More to come in July's issue as I review the works of Max Beckmann, Georg Baselitz, and Picasso.